The Big Bed in Beverly

     We arrived back to our house in Beverly, MA, earlier this week while Glenn has stayed put in New York City.  It feels soothing and comforting to be here, a place where we have lived for 13 years. Yet there was an imprint made on us from living at Chanbari House for almost 9 months and the adjustment back to Beverly has been impacted by that impression.  Here is a good example:
     All while we lived in Sikkim, Corrina and I shared a big bed.  It was as much for comfort and closeness as it was for the warmth an extra body provided.  Grace, when she was living at the house, either slept across the hall or in the other bed in my bedroom.  Here in Beverly, we each have our own bedroom separated by floors and hallways that can make the rooms seem a distance away. Corrina never even bothered to move into her room.  Her bed is covered with junk, things that we would never have even considered purchasing in Sikkim -- how would you dispose of it when you were done? Grace did set up in her own room, but last night she wasn't feeling great.  She had a bad headache and seemed to be running a low-grade fever.  When she was getting ready to go to bed she asked me first if I would come up to shut off her light; then she came simply crawled into bed lying with her head at the foot of the bed.  Ella, our youngest dog, was already in the bed with me and Corrina.  The bed felt full, but it also felt right.  Grace promptly fell asleep and we all spent the night in the one big bed.  I liked having both girls close by, the house feels too big -- we rattle around in all of the space.
    I am afraid of forgetting my memories from Sikkim.  I have the photos to remind me, but there is so much more than visual images from a trip like the one we took.  There are emotions and sensibilities, ways of being that are triggered by one's surroundings that become sublimated when one leaves that environment. Every time I have a feeling that reminds me of something in Sikkim, I hold onto it as best I can because I thoroughly enjoyed the person I was and the way I lived in Sikkim. I am ready to count the days until I go back.

Photos from our last day in Sikkim

These photos say it all -- all of these people enriched our time at Taktse.  More photos to come...

Left to Right: Mr. Topden, Maria, "Amabompo" (Pitnso's aunt),
Grace, Corrina, me, Sonam, Pintso and Anna

Mr. Topden and his mother, our cook, Ms. Neema  

Saying Goodbye...

We have landed home

      I realize that I have been avoiding writing in this blog for quite a while.  Anything I might have written about in the past six weeks could only reference the fact that we were imminently leaving Sikkim.  That was something I didn't want to think about, but now I am home and in my longing for the place I feel the need to write.
      About a month before we left Taktse, I inadvertently had an encounter with a western (Canadian) parent whose child is currently attending Taktse in Grade 3.  There was a mix-up. We were supposed to meet on a particular day to discuss his child's results to a Grade 4 Progression test.  That day Corrina was sick and I decided to stay home.  I forgot about the meeting, which was at Noon, until about 10:30AM at which point I tried to reach someone at school.  The only person I could find was an administrative assistant.  She took a message and sent it along to the Head of the Lower School.
      I didn't think any more about it until I got a call at 1PM.  The student's teacher was calling to ask when I would be arriving at school to attend the meeting. I explained to her that I had already sent word I wouldn't be coming to school that day and she was surprised to hear it. In fact, she had already been yelled at (at length) by the parent about how unprofessional the school and I both were for letting this happen.
      When I heard that from her, I cringed. I cringed partly because the mix-up had led to the parents waiting over an hour for me to arrive at school; and I cringed partly because it was clear that the father had given it to Ms. Dingtsa even though she had nothing to do with the mix-up. And at that moment I realized that I hadn't cringed like that in 8 months.  It was clear that the father had verbally throw up his negative emotion on Ms. Dingtsa and she was shaken by it. In Sikkim and at Taktse, no one feels that they have the right to anything like that.  But in America it happens all the time. I felt like I was back in America witnessing the worst that people have to offer.
      Coming home is a complicated business. I am so glad to be here amongst things familiar, but I feel sad for the things we had to leave behind. I am going to miss the enormous hospitality and kindess of the people in Sikkim and at Taktse.  When you live so close to so many people as one does in India, you will only survive if you learn to get along. Here in the US, our notions of self-reliance and independence allow us the illusion that we don't need other people and therefore can mistreat and dismiss them at our whim.  I will miss the daily confrontation of the use and misuse of the resources we have.  In the US it is so easy to overlook the impact of our usage -- of water, of packaging, of food -- because we tuck the evidence away in tidy white garbage bags (that smell nice no matter what you put in the bag!).  I am going to miss the simple way of eating that is whole food and organic by necessity. And I am going to miss the mystical sense that the earth is alive.
      I don't know how I am going to avoid the situation that happened with the Canadian parent in the future, especially if I work as an administrator at a school.  Perhaps I will have to teach people some bits of the Sikkimese way. And if you will indulge me, I will keep writing about what it is like to be back.